Such Beauty in Despair
by The Most Awesome Person Ever
Summary: Ludwig is not the same child that Gilbert watched grow up. Instead, Gilbert finds a harsh, cold, and quite frankly, an asshole of a brother. But who's to blame for Ludwig's change in character? It's these nations that Gilbert wants to burn under his hand.
1. Prologue & Chapter One

**WHAHHHHH! I am SO sorry that this took so long! I had a lot of bad things happen -sadface- and it really wasn't pretty. But enough 'bout that. That's all in the past now! I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Meh, Like a year T_T. Crap. But I do want to finish this story! There's a lot to put down! I may start writing in a notebook while I'm at campus in order to actually update. So here, the second chapter :)  
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**Okay, so I didn't like how chapter one was AT ALL! So I decided to merge the two chapters and call the "first chapter" a "prologue". So my second chapter just became my first chapter . What? . So full of fail.  
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**Prologue: Reality  
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Fables are for the weak. Reality is for the strong. Damn, I wish I followed my own advice….

"And don't forget that you're still my little brother!" Gilbert kicked at the powdered snow on the ground ashe yelled. However, Ludwig just narrowed his eyes at the Prussian and stood his ground while speaking ina direct and low tone. "You follow my orders," and stepped onto the train bound for Germany before adding:"brüder" as a last insult towards the other nation. With that satisfaction, Ludwig easily left East Prussia to settle things back in Berlin.

"What a brat," Gilbert mumbled, now facing his generals. With his red eyes ablaze, his generals cringed in his presence."You heard him! Now go! There's no time to waste!" And there was no need for Gilbert to repeat himself as they all practicallyscattered in various directions. It was always dangerous to cross paths with Gilbert when he was in a mood. Disobedienceand/or failure were terms that were simply unaccepted; especially when Gilbert was in a mood. It kept anyone and everyoneaway from Gilbert, whether he was in a good mood or not, people stayed away from the reject nation. However, the Prussian was completely fine with that. The more alone he was the better. He wasn't even human: he's nothing like them. Being a nationmeant being alone forever. Gilbert had seen many people grown old and die but they had all simply blocked all of the commonlogic that Gilbert was not human out of their tiny little brains. Only the leader of the nation is exempt from the mystical powersthat shield any knowledge of the nations.

Even with this power, Gilbert still liked to wander off on his own to be even more alone. He almost always found himself wanderinginto nearby woodlands where he could write in his journal. It was times like these where Gilbert needed to write in his used to be filled with writings filled with glorious days and awesome-isms; not anymore. Now it's just filled with theories, revenge,and sadness; nothing compared to the awesome journals of Prussia's past. Happiness only seemed to visit Gilbert when he wasalone: when he could just relax under a tree and dream about the past.

This is where Gilbert found himself at the moment. He wasn't sure how exactly he wound up in the middle of the woods but he hada good idea of how he got here. "They really work hard for me." Being a good military power always brought a smile to the Prussian. It reminded him of Old Fritz and how his generals would follow him to the ends of the earth. "I'm so great, no wonder I'm—"His eyesdropped and his memories faded with the mental image of his little brother. His brother was not the child that Gilbert once raised."It's all their faults that he's like this. Those bastards," a growl crept from his throat and even the trees shook with fear.

"They will pay."

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**Chapter One: What's in a leader?**

"Hitler. I despise that name." Gilbert wrote those next words into his was number two behind only that of only the allied powers on his list of ,Gilbert was alone in the woods, angry and away from the rest of the world. However, it wasgetting late and Gilbert decided that he should get back to the estate where he could at least enjoy a hot bath on this shitty night.

That didn't stop him from releasing his frustrations out as he walked however: "Hmpf! He calls himself a German leader when he himself is nothing but an Austrian brat! I can't believe my brother is so quick to trust that…that…..THAT DAMNED FOOL!" Out of rage, the Prussian decided to punch an old oak tree, successfully hurting himself in the process. "Fick!" Gilbert cursed and rubbed his injured hand until it healed itself a couple of moments later. "This is all their faults! To pay them for the war…. Don't they see what they've done! Gott! And now we have a fucking Austrian for a leader!" The Prussian continued to fume like this for hours as he walked back to his estate.

When Gilbert finally got there, not even a good glass of beer and a cute stuffed panda seemed appealing to Gilbert that night. This was because the date is August 19, 1934, and an Austrian reject has now become Fürhrer of Germany. "That man is a threat to all of us," Gilbert muttered under his breath as he sat down to take off his boots.

"Entschuldigen sie bitte?" A male voice questioned from behind Gilbert.

Still deep in thought with the threat of an Austrian Fürhrer, the voice startled Gilbert and caused him to throw one of his best glares in the voice's direction.

"Entschuldigen sie bitte?" The voice repeated, unwavering from the nation's glare. The voice belonged to a younger servant of the estate; his name was Strom. He was only twenty-four, handsome with light brown hair and deep chestnut colored eyes, clean-cut with an athletic build. But Strom had been born into the service of a nation, bred for the sole purpose of serving Gilbert just as Strom's whole family has done for generations.

Seeing that it was just Strom, Gilbert ceased his glare immediately. "Es ist nichts. Obwohl ich werde ein Bad nehmen."

"Ich werde bereiten Ihr Bad." With that, the male servant left the main entry in order to prepare his master's bath.

Gilbert left his muddy boots for another servant to clean, and worked his way up the stairs. It was hard for him to look up at the walls to see portraits of his own former leaders; especially of the paintings of Old Fritz. Even on a normal day, Gilbert would feel the tightness in his chest swell if he caught himself gazing at his most beloved leader. Now that Hitler is his new leader, Gilbert can't even bring himself to look at Old Fritz. He was still a mere child compared to Old Fritz. If Gilbert dared look at him now, the Prussian feared that the portrait would come to life before showing Old Fritz's disappointment in the nation before disappearing from the picture frame altogether, never to return.

As Gilbert continued to walk up the staircase and down the hall, he kept his eyes on the floor. When he came to the portrait of Old Fritz and Hans together, he stopped and gently brushed the frame with his fingertips while keeping his eyes on the carpet. This was secretly Gilbert's favorite portrait of the famed leader. Even though Gilbert didn't look up at the frame, he has gazed at it enough to have every detail etched into his memory. Old Fritz seemed to have everything going for him at the time.

He was young, rich, and most importantly: he was in love. Gilbert wished he could've seen his leader before they killed Hans. Instead, that was the first time Gilbert was allowed to meet Old Fritz. It was when King Frederick William, Old Fritz's father, Gilbert's current leader at the time, decided that his son would make a horrible king for Prussia and in order to make a mockery of the future king, King Frederick William had Old Fritz and Gilbert watch as Hans was decapitated. In hopes that the nation would talk to the Holy Roman Empire in order to sway the leadership of Prussia to the King's other son, the old king left Gilbert to see Old Fritz suffering from the loss of his best friend and lover. Little did the old king know; the very son he had hoped to humiliate became one of Prussia's greatest leaders. Old Fritz had fought to become worthy of the throne; he fought to become stronger, more knowledgeable, wiser; he fought for Prussia, for Gilbert. It was Old Fritz's determination that made Gilbert into the man, and nation, that he was today.

As Strom was fetching fresh towels while the bathtub was filling up, he worried about his master. Even though Strom knew that Gilbert wasn't human, he still felt compassion for his owner. Gilbert may be a nation, but perhaps he's the most human of them all. Throughout Strom's childhood, his family constantly had to remind him what Gilbert was and was not, as well as the fact that Strom was only to be a servant to the nation.

Rarely, he had seen Gilbert's rage. And never, has he seen the nation's true power. But Strom could see it in the nation's eyes; the sadness, the pain, the glory, the happiness, the love, the despair…he could see all of the human emotions behind those crimson eyes. The elders didn't seem to understand. Yes Gilbert is a nation, but nations are made up by the people and for the people. Prussia was all of the Prussians wrapped up into one. When the people hurt, Prussia hurt; when the people cheered, Prussia cheered. Gilbert was connected to all of them in ways that simple minds couldn't comprehend.

Coming up from the above staircase, the lowly servant found the grand nation gazing at /that/ painting again. Strom noted that regret and sadness filled the crimson hues. Hiding all emotion from his thoughts and voice, the servant bowed before announcing his presence. "Your bath is ready sir."

Again, Gilbert was caught off guard and jumped, taking his hand off of the portrait and wiping away at his tears. "Danke Strom," Gilbert laughed to cover-up his surprised demeanor, and made haste towards his bathroom.

Strom stayed with his head lowered until the nation passed him and entered the main quarters before righting himself. He couldn't help himself to not let his own tears glide down his cheeks. His country was hurting, and there was nothing he could do. He was after all, just a servant of the house.

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**What did y'all think? I had originally planned on developing Strom a lot more in this chapter, but I think I'll be doing that for chapter two. I'm not really satisfied with this chapter, especially its length and development, but hey... a year of no update...I had to post something. But please review! Danke! And can you guys read this format alright?  
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	2. Amongst the Laughter

**Hey y'all! Sorry it's been forever! College is kicking my ass to be quite honest. T_T But I'm writing whenever I get the chance! 19 credit hours is something that I will never do again. Here's the latest chapter! Enjoy!**

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Such Beauty in Despair

Chapter Two: Amongst the Laughter

Never once has the albino ever fallen asleep in a bathtub. Yet by some consequence of some law named after some guy Murphy, Gilbert was indeed fast asleep while in the tub. His rubber ducklings brushed up against his pale chest, similar to that of small boats tied to a dock. The small ducklings seemed to look up at their owner as they bobbed, saddened that he wasn't responding to his favorite bath toys. But the warm water had cast its spell on the exhausted Prussian. Mischievous and cunning, the water had planned to keep him here until the nation's skin was beyond shriveled. Upon the light heaving of his chest, the water rolled back and forth, carrying the white clouds of the bubble bath along in a rhythmic sway.

"Bruder,"

"Bruder, wake up!"

Blue orbs peered at the sleeping nation, as crimson remained hidden behind latched doors.

"Bruder! Its going to rain!"

"Nein Westen…" The large figure mumbled. "Let me sleep."

"But Bruder! Look!"

The smaller pointed up towards the darkened sky, unknowingly of course to the obstinate nation who mumbled once more before he shifted to the side. It would be at this moment, of course, that the sky would choose to rumble slightly in agreement with the younger nation.

"See! Did you hear that!" The younger's voice chirped at the sound of thunder, neither afraid nor distressed. It was a voice filled with youthful excitement. However, the Prussian remained obstinate.

"Nein. That was my stomach…now Westen, let me sleep." But the old nation was all but sleeping now that he posed a single eye up at his counterpart. Ordained with a slight smirk, the smaller had no time to counter before the older spoke again. "Unless you would care to join me, I will just sleep and nothing more. Kesesese~"

That chuckle burned through the smaller's cheeks and swelled them with embarrassment mixed with frustration. If he didn't release all of this energy soon, steam was sure to emit from his tiny ears. Small hands balled up into fists before being brought back down onto his caretaker's chest.

"Bruder! You idiot!"

The wheezing laughter from the elder was drowned out by the cracks and rumbles of the brewing storm above the two. The now non- sleeping nation sat up on his elbows, and looked to the sky; simply stating: "It's going to rain."

This is where the face-palm was created. It was the older nation's laid-back attitude and the younger's frustration that caused this action to exist. It was this very moment that a small hand was brought up to a small forehead, where a small 'smacking' noise was emitted. This of course would be dubbed as the 'face-palm' at a later date in time.

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And at a much later date and time, the older nation was still slumbering. This time, he wasn't soaking wet from rain, but drenched in a now cold bath while his servant stood loyally outside the bathroom door awaiting his master's emergence from the bathroom. Although Strom was loyal, he was starting to question himself. It had been a while since he had last heard the movement of water. Could a nation drown? Was it possible for a nation to die? Could they commit suicide? Or was it possible that Germany could dissolve Prussia into nothing? Was Gilbert melting within the bath that the servant had prepared? Would the great Prussia even consider such as thing like death? Was it blasphemous for a nation to kill another or commit suicide? Was there even a single God? Or were the nations Gods themselves? These were the questions that ate at the servant while he waited for hours outside of the bath. The more and more Strom pondered about his questions, the more panicked the servant became.

Slowly, his master revived from his lengthy nap. A pale and now shriveled hand rose to meet a disapproving glare. How long had he been in the bath? Surely, a dream that was as short as that wouldn't cause him to sleep for long. And where were his servants to keep this wrinkled mess from happening? The Prussian shifted only slightly in order to determine the damage that was done; only to pale even further when he thought of his manhood. Almost immediately, Gilbert rose from the bath. To quick were his actions, causing him to slip and fall face-first upon the cold tile.

The sound of Gilbert's inward-curse was muffled by a door slamming open, revealing a bery panicked stricken servant shouting at him. Bare naked on the floor and very much confused, Gilbert could barely understand his own language. There were a few moments of silence between the speechless master and the panting servant before the words finally clicked in the Prussian's head.

"Are you God!"

Thin lips pulled back to reveal inhuman canines, bellows of laughter echoed towards the servant. 'Are you God' was seriously what this servant had yelled at him. It would be three whole minutes of laughter at an extremely embarrassed servant before the nation was able to stifle his laughter while coming up with a retort for his servant's question/statement.

"Am I God?" Gilbert repeated the question, with amusement. "I'm more than /just/ that." The Prussian turned darkly up at his servant, motioning for his towel. "Now tell me, servant, why is my skin like this?"

It was obvious that his servant was having difficulty answering Gilbert's question. Hell, from the servant's expression, it looked like the man was trying to force his own death. But Gilbert wouldn't want that for his most amusing servant; especially when the Prussian needed to laugh. Perhaps he should let the servant sweat it for a few more moments. To Gilbert, watching the servant was the most entertainment the Prussian's had in years.

Strom on the other hand, did not share his master's amusement with the situation. Just as Gilbert was thinking, Strom really was trying to induce his own death. Strom's wishful pleas were to no avail and his heart kept stubbornly beating within his chest. The servant, not knowing what else to do, dropped to his hands and knees, promptly begging for his forgiveness.

'Ah~ time's up.' thought the Prussian. He had had his fun from the servant, and he had taken what he could from it.

"No worries," Gilbert chose to speak to his servant as if they were on equal terms, friends even. "But I expect a good breakfast in the morning." He didn't want it to sound like an order; instead he had meant it as a jest among pals. With a keen smile Gilbert dismissed the other before striding past the servant and into bed. Preparations for war were always important, and Prussia knew he should get plenty of rest when the opportunity presented itself.

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[Back in Germany…]

Ludwig kneeled in front of the large desk before him. "_Führer_, the eastern troops are as you instructed." That man's portrait loomed over the two souls present in the room, always scowling. The swastika hangs ornately on the wall adjacent of the portrait. (It hangs on the right-hand side of course.)

"And your brother?"

"He is not my brother."

It was a rare scene to behold, the Austrian's always stoic face lit up with a murderer's smirk, shifting from its usual scowl. "And why is he not your brother?"

The nation remained motionless, his head still bowed as he spoke. "He let the parasites in." There was a slight pause. "He is a parasite. /The/ parasite."

The _Führer stood up, placing his hand upon the nation's head. "That's right. But we still have use of him, Germany."_

_"But he's the reason why I am weak! He's the reason why it hurts so much! He's the one who embedded the parasites into my blood!" Cerulean eyes were set ablaze as they shot upwards to the Führer. Ludwig hated the parasite. He wanted it dead._

"Prussia is a dog," The human gripped forcefully at inhuman hair. "and what happens to dogs that bite their owners or lose their purpose? What happens to those who sin? He must pay his punishment and atone for the crimes he's committed against you. Don't worry; he will answer to God in the end."

Ludwig bowed lower and kissed the sole of his _Führer's boot in adoration. "You will make me strong; strong enough to put the dog out of its misery. You will get rid of the leeches on my skin, and the parasites in my blood. You. You are my Führer. I serve only you, and I serve you forever."_

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**Alright, I did like the ending of this chapter with Germany. And I did like the flashback with little Germany and Prussia. I did not like the middle with Strom and Gilbert. I felt like I was rp-ing with myself rather than writing a fanfic. Ah~ but please tell me what you think! I know it's a pretty long set up, but please bare with me!**

**Thank you for reading! I hope to hear from everyone about their thoughts! Advice and any other sorts of comments are greatly appreciated!**

**Until next time!**

**~The Most Awesome Person Ever  
**


	3. Addictions

Chapter Three: Such Beauty in Despair

0600 sharp and breakfast was served, courtesy of Strom's uncle-with the help of his mother and younger sister. It had only taken an hour for the meal to be prepared, yet it was a rather sleepless night in the servants' quarters. Thanks to the eavesdropping accomplished by Strom's younger sister, the whole family feared that their nation's rage would be the end of their services. And because of this 'incident', Strom found himself locked in his room to await 'certain' death'. Of course all of the accusations were completely ridiculous, and lacked input from either Strom or Prussia.

Left without a candle or lamp, all that was left to do was for Strom to lie in bed, staring up into the black of ceiling. It was his punishment for causing the death of his whole family. To sit in the dark, while his family begged Prussia to spare them and take only Strom's life as payment for his foolish actions. In truth, after Gilbert had crawled into bed, the servant had been happy because Prussia genuinely smiled and laughed at the servant. It wasn't until Strom reached the servants' quarters that he was detained by his father. Even though Strom was firm in his belief in a /good/ Prussia, years of indoctrination still played around in the servant's mind, assuring Strom that he was going to die. It would be two days before Strom would be let out of his room, starved and half-dead with dehydration.

**[The Two Days Later]**

Gilbert was furious. Not only had he been without his favorite servant for two days, the servant was practically dead.

"Verdamnt!" Eyes of crimson flame bore down at the female child. Her whole family shook behind her, except for Strom who had to be placed in the hospital. "Your loose tongue has placed my favorite servant on his death-bed! You are lucky that you are his kin or else I would have your throat! But I will still consult with my servant on whether or not you live or die."

The eleven-year old girl cried immensely for her father or mother to save her, yet none of her family dared to move. The child looked rather disgusting to the Prussian, only adding to the nation's venom.

"Now shut her up and get back to your duties! I'll have that bitch nowhere near me!" Still very angry, the nation left the mess of servants behind, disgusted with them. Humans were always disgusting creatures. Driven by fear, they are no better than common livestock.

At a time like this, Prussia didn't need to be wasting time dealing with childish behavior. The only reason why these slaves were still breathing was because Strom is so much like Fritz in his younger years. And that is the only reason why they were still alive. Although, Gilbert still reserved the right to kill them and keep Strom all to himself. But humans are weak. The last serving members had made a similar mistake and all paid dearly for it. If they hadn't have bothered to know the details of Elsa's death and read her diary, they might have kept their servitude. He had let her see what he was. She was the first serving member to know the truth, and he had called her Fraulein. Like Strom, Elsa believed in a /good/ Prussia, and she too was Gilbert's favorite servant. All of that ended when the servant girl took her own life because she saw the demon that was Prussia. He had called her Fraulein, and she had called him an 'unholy thing' in return. After Gilbert found Elsa hanging in her room, it only took days before the rest of the servants knew of their impending demise. Humans. Their simple minds overloaded with knowledge they should not know. No one served the great nations after the purge took place.

Years passed by, and Germany was grown and out of Prussia's house. Gilbert would never admit it, but he was lonely inside his house. This was when Strom's family had come into servitude. A prince by birth, yet a bastard by lineage, Albert worked hard to earn his rank within the cavalry. Yet, an untimely accident threatened to cut the soldier's life short. Had he not sold both his and his wife's souls to the Devil, Strom could have been living a much different life. By divine right, Prussia held ownership over Albert's heirs until the last drop of his bastard blood was nowhere to be found.

The contract was never in Albert's favor. Yet it was neither in Prussia's hand. Both parties had made it in greed; Albert to save his pointless life, and Gilbert in hopes of gaining what he could not have. Yes. Humans are stupid, fearful creatures. But some of them are pure. They have what Old Fritz had taught to Gilbert. They had the one thing that no nation was born with. They had love.

**[1934 Nuremberg Rally]**

Aryans filled the whole of Berlin, filling it with a sea of crazed perfection. Their Führer was beyond God in their eyes, he was everything to them. He was the intoxicating drug that held them together. Most importantly, it was an unbelievable high for Ludwig, and like a common addict, he wanted more of it.

"We want our Führer! We want out Führer!"

Every shout was like a new dose of cocaine mixed with an undertone of old brandy in the background. With one look outside the window, red and black soared amongst the crowd. The nation inhaled deeply, taking the drug in for a long time before releasing it slowly back into the air.

"Do you feel that?"

"Yes, my Führer."

"Out there is only perfection. Soon, all of the parasites will be out of Berlin. Tell me how you feel." The two men gazed out at the crowded streets, painted pleasures on each of their faces.

"Almost cured, my Führer."

"You are far from cured. Is your potential really this weak? Should I stop what I am doing since you are," A pause, "…'almost' cured?" It was a ruse of course, but the nation had already fallen for the lie before it was dealt.

"N-no! I need you my Führer! Please forgive me, I have been sick for too long that I do not know my own potential!"

"It is understandable. I will let this slip only this once."

"Thank you my Führer."

With devilish grace, before the Führer stepped to the stage, addressing the Aryans beneath him, he spoke to his nation. "The German form of life is definitely determined for the next thousand years, Ludwig."

At the same rally, another nation stood in the streets; almost inducted into the intoxication himself. If it hadn't been for the sight he was about to see standing in the background next to his beloved brother, he would've been lost in the madman's speech. Prussia had been rethinking his thoughts against Hitler during his captivating speech. All in less than a single breath, everything made sense. His brother was no more than a pawn in a game that has been going on since before Germany had come into existence. It was impossible for the uninvited nation to keep his presence a secret as his eyes met the aristocrat's royal haze. Austria. Hatred burned between the two as they both stood there with locked glares. With a slight whisper, Ludwig's eyes were too, drawn to Gilbert's. A pull, and then a mouthed command: "….here now."

Gilbert would give anything in the world to Ludwig. But not this. This wasn't his beloved younger brother; this was the doing of that two-faced aristocrat. Prussia turned his back towards his fellow nations, refusing his brother's command. The nation didn't notice the American reporter following him out of the crowd. Gilbert's mind was too preoccupied with his current situation and the strategies he would have to imply in the future. He was too busy playing war games in his mind's eye to care that the American had gripped the nation's jacket and pulled the nation into a secluded alley. Gilbert was indeed grateful that some drunk was stupid enough to pick a fight with him. His feral grin was hardly concealed to the stranger. It was the terrible German that broke the Prussian's rage and turned it to mild annoyance.

"Excuse me. Sir? May I have a word with you?" The American fumbled with the German language, trying to use as much hand gestures as he could to try to express his meaning. Gilbert understood him perfectly of course. He had decades of practice with horrible the horrible American-German language.

"My English is perfectly fine. You may speak to me with that. If you are looking for directions, I do not know where whatever you are looking for is. I am in a rush to the station. I have no time to attend to you." The nation did not lie to the American, as no lie was needed in this particular case.

"Perfect! I have no ties here, I shall accompany you then!"

The nation eyed the American man in almost disbelief; a human accompanying a nation to the station, and an American none the less? Wasn't this man afraid of the albino that stood before him? Was Prussia truly so weak that a mere human not be afraid of him, especially since the nation was in such a bad mood?

"Alfie?" Gilbert was skeptical that this man could possibly be the rising nation, but what else would explain this human's actions?

"Alfie? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Of course it wasn't America. It was just a simpleminded human who wouldn't know an eagle if it landed on him. This human was of no importance to Prussia. "No matter." As originally planned, the nation entered the streets on his way back to the station, leaving the American dumbfounded in the alley.

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**Hey Y'all! I'm sorry this took so long! I was having laptop problems until it finally died, BUT I just got a new one so it's all better now! I'm still not quite sure where this is going, but I am starting to get a better picture of this story. As always, thank you all for reading! I really enjoy hearing from you all and really appreciate your questions, comments, and concerns. You guys are the BEST!**

**AND A VERY SPECIAL THANKS TO MY FAVORITE AUTHOR HERE ON FANFICTION! I have always been greatly influenced by Porzellan by Lilien Passe ever since I read her story three years ago. She is the reason why I fell in love with the characterization of Prussia. While writing this chapter, I had the idea of referencing back to ****Porzellan ****and use one of Lilien Passe's characters. I asked Lilien Passe for her permission and was very surprised that such a popular author (and my personal favorite) would answer me in no less than four hours granting me the usage of "Elsa" from ****Porzellan****. I am extremely grateful for Lilien Passe to be so generous in letting me borrow her character. ****Porzellan ****is a magnificent piece of work that no number of my praises will ever do it the justice it deserves. I strongly encourage everyone to read the piece of work that had me hooked from day one! Below is a direct link to ****Porzellan****. Due to fanfiction blocking urls, I have placed a space in between each character. ENJOY!**

**H t t p : / / w w w . f a n f I c t I o n . n e t / s / 5 0 7 8 0 1 1 / 1 / P o r z e l l a n**


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